


No Blood, No Foul

by ptw30



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Street Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroko had been without a light for so long, he thought he faded into the darkness. He can't go back to that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Blood, No Foul

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanwork for KB. Thanks for reading!

It was a routine, like any other, one that Kuroko desperately needed by the time he’d entered Seirin. After not having a light for so long, he took solace in reading on the train, stopping for two teas, and then meeting—sometimes waking—Kagami for school.

Kagami was usually awake, though—unless Alex turned off his cell phone’s alarm before climbing into Kagami’s bed, but even Kuroko admitted that was Kagami’s fault because he just was so warm and snuggly—and between embarrassed shouts and packed breakfasts, the duo headed off to play a few rounds of one-on-one before the first bell.

Of course, Kagami crushed Kuroko every single time they played, but after the first few months, Kuroko was able to swipe the ball away from Kagami at least once a morning. Sometimes, he’d even score a lay-up. After Aomine taught Kuroko how to shoot, he’d even score a shot or two if he managed to fake Kagami out (which, admittedly, was not more than once a week).

But the routine that began as comfortable camaraderie with playful jabs and a few elbows, grew into a natural friendship of hair ruffles and shared dinners. Sometimes, Kagami would call him “Tetsu,” but only in the mornings and only when they were alone, and sometimes, Kuroko would let him without even a reprimanding scowl.

And then one day, Kuroko blazed past Kagami with a fake and an invisible drive that took Kagami by storm—which Kuroko had never managed before, so these morning practices were definitely helping—and since he’d not been able to score once that day, Kagami dove without thinking, or so Kuroko thought. That was the only way Kuroko could explain why Kagami wrapped his large arms around his mid-section, dragged him do the ground, and then caged him with those trembling biceps.

Because he couldn’t score…a basket.

“Kagami-kun, I believe that was a foul.”

“No blood, no foul,” Kagami replied with a twitch of his shoulder.

“That is perhaps the most stupid rule I have ever heard.”

“That’s street ball for you. That’s what we’re playing.” Their wet chests pressed together, so every strained breath fought for superiority in the very little space between them. “Isn’t it?”

Kagami’s lips, inches from Kuroko’s, were stained a pale pink by the cool morning’s air, but Kuroko fought the urge to explore their alluring warmth. He’d been without a light for so long that even he wondered if he’d become completely invisible in its absence, on and off the court. He had begun to feel his entire existence fade away into the darkness until he simply existed but didn’t matter to anyone, didn’t care about anyone.

But he mattered to Seirin. He mattered to Kagami, and Kagami and the team mattered to him.

But he was never sure how much he mattered or if he mattered in the way he wanted to, with Kagami…until he shifted and felt the sudden hardness pressing against his stomach, its length more than intimating. Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised Kuroko. Kagami palmed the ball with great ease.

Still, Kuroko froze, unable to acknowledge the truth physically keeping him ensnarled in Kagami’s hold. He couldn’t be rejected, not again.

Instead, he opted for, “I…like your basketball.”

Kagami smiled then, ever the challenger. “I like your basketball, too, and a whole lot more…Tetsu.”

And then Kagami quit the distance between their lips, entrapping Kuroko into a breathless embrace that seemed to steal all of Kuroko’s insecurities and fears, burning them in the steady and radiant warmth of Kagami’s presence.

Kuroko squirmed, trying to lift his arms about the larger teen’s neck when his elbow scraped against the asphalt. He lifted the offending appendage and said matter-of-factly, “Blood, Kagami-kun. Foul. You lose.”

“Really? And here I thought I just won.”

And he captured Kuroko’s lips once more.

The End


End file.
